The Unexpected Mission
by Circus Witch
Summary: Dipper didn't normally accept exorcism missions, or any missions at all, but a fat wad of cash awaited him in Grunkle Stan's wallet. Reverse Falls!AU, Dipper x Gideon


**Reverse Falls!AU, Dipper x Gideon**

 **I'm keeping the names as Dipper and Mabel Pines and Gideon Gleeful because I didn't want to take away from the name pun of "giddy 'n' gleeful." I'm really late to jump onto the Reverse Falls bandwagon, and also just in contributing to the fandom in general, but...**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Unexpected Mission**

Dipper didn't normally accept exorcism missions, or any missions at all, but a fat wad of cash awaited him in Grunkle Stan's wallet. The location was an abandoned warehouse on the Pines' property. Stan previously locked away his failed products to be forgotten, stains on his current formidable reputation as a businessman. However, he also hid a trunk of treasures amidst the trash, now guarded by some Category 3 ghost who had died fighting to protect his trove from falling into the wrong hands (in vain).

Stan all but forced his nephew into the mission because Mabel sweet-talked her way out of it and Dipper was certain that she was his favorite. Curse her, Stan always did have a soft spot for girls, as if it were Dipper's fault he received a Y chromosome instead of an extra X.

He wrapped his blue cape tighter around himself. The summer nights have been chilly this week, to the point where his breath was visible. He loathed Gravity Falls' unreliable weather forecast. One day it's an unrelenting heat wave worth stripping for, then next it's a blizzard. At the very least, he was grateful nobody would see him wearing the tacky utility belt Stan gave him, loaded with vials of holy water and salt packets from fast food drive-throughs. Journal #2 was safely carried in his leather messenger bag.

The tall barbed wire fence loomed over Dipper menacingly, with signs threatening fates worse than prosecution in curly fonts. A ripped piece of blue cloth stuck to a wire at the top from someone who had previously attempted to jump it. Dipper walked to the gate and opened it with the key Stan gave him. He was about to pick the lock to the warehouse door, whereas Mabel would have ripped it off with telekinesis, when he discovered there was no need to. The door swung open, not even closed properly.

He shrugged it off and proceeded inside, willing the mystic amulet on his neck ribbon tie to glow and light his way. In hindsight, he should have brought a lantern. His amulet barely let him see half a foot in front of him and from the outside, the warehouse was huge. The pitch-black darkness only proved to be another obstacle in finding Grunkle Stan's darned trunk. He supposed the easiest method was to find the ghost first, which would then lead him to the trunk.

"Any ghosts wandering the living realm around he- _gyah!_ "

Dipper tripped over his untied shoelaces and fell face-first to the cold ground. He was extremely glad nobody was around to witness that. He crouched on one knee to make sure his shoelace was double-knotted, a task easy even in the dark.

The _tap tap tap_ of approaching footsteps froze Dipper in the midst of his first knot, putting him on high alert. He didn't think ghosts had a form physical enough to leave sounds of echoing footsteps, but he would have to skim over the journal again. As he listened closer, he also noticed heavy breathing gradually getting louder and a warmth that seemed to inch closer and closer and-

There was a high-pitched yelp, seemingly from a human girl no doubt, and this person had somehow stumbled and gotten tangled in Dipper's cape. The culprit screamed as they fought what seemed like a suffocating monster to them.

Meanwhile, Dipper was being choked by the girl who had gotten entangled in his cape. He finally set himself free from the cape and helped the poor girl out of her mess. He gave her a sweet smile and offered his hand to the young madam on the ground, hardly able to see her face with the glow dim of his amulet. "Dear me, you seem to have gotten lost." His heart still pounded from his near-death experience.

A flashlight shone in his eyes. "L-Li'l Dipper?" Gideon's eyes widened, as if he were the deer caught in the headlights and not the one flashing the light in the other boy's eyes. Dipper's cape was still wrapped around his waist."Yer trespassin' 'ere too?"

He accepted Dipper's hand, only for Dipper's grip to be automatically released when he recognized the boy, rudely dropping Gideon back to the floor. "I believe _you_ are the only one trespassing. This is Pines' property- _and stop shining that thing in my face!_ " He grabbed ahold of the hand Gideon held the flashlight with and yanked him up to his feet. The blue glow of his amulet lit the both of their faces. "What are you doing here?"

Gideon fearfully looked up into the taller boy's piercing ice-blue glare. He squeezed his eyes shut and mustered the courage to accusingly blurt out, "I'm 'ere ta exorcise the poor dead soul yer wicked family terrorized!"

They stared each other down for a few seconds until Dipper's glare softened. "... Oh, okay." Dipper relented his grip on Gideon's hand and clicked his utility belt around the shorter boy's waist. "It'll be easier to navigate this place if we find the light switch first."

Gideon stumbled over his words attempting to find a proper response to Dipper's unexpectedly easy-going acquiesce. A thousand question marks popped into his mind. "W-w-we? A-As in, the two of us? Together? Not against each other?"

Dipper took Gideon's hand and guided the flashlight towards the wall. The first spot he shined towards happened to be the exact location of the light switch. He calmly walked towards it, unfazed by his own generosity. "I'm not the competitive one." With that, he flicked the switch on, turning on the dusty fluorescent lights hanging over their heads and illuminating the entire warehouse. "Besides, it's less work for me. I'm the one getting paid by Grunkle Stan."

Gideon huffed out a visible breath in annoyance and loosened the utility belt so that he could breathe easier. Thinking back, Dipper's laxness made sense: Mabel was the one who would go on a killing spree to make him hers, she was the one who constantly challenged Pacifica in petty contests, she was the one who manipulated people to get her way. Although he's caused his own fair share of trouble, Dipper, for the most part, just happened to be dragged along by his sister's dominating will. He clicked off his flashlight and put it in his backpack where Journal #3 was also contained. "Where's Mabel?" he asked out of curiosity, though he didn't exactly miss her.

Dipper rolled his eyes. Nobody ever asked where _he_ was when Grunkle Stan made him stay home to help maintain the Tent of Telepathy. He pushed the boy forward, forcing him to walk if he didn't want to trip. "Catching up on beauty sleep. You better make your exorcism quick because I'd like to do the same."

* * *

There were countless towering stacks of crates that made a maze out of the warehouse. Dipper cursed Stan under his breath. It's no wonder he was offered money to retrieve the trunk by sunrise-it was impossible with all the junk lying around. The lights, although bright, flickered due to faulty wiring. He was shivering and sleep-deprived and following around some little boy his sister was obsessed with all thanks to his no-good, misandrist, slave-driver of a Grunkle.

Gideon hugged the blue cape to his chest. As it turned out, half of a dynamic duo and half of a villainous duo made for an awkward pair. He hated being in charge. Mindlessly leading Dipper around wasn't doing any good. Clearly, Dipper was still following him-he could hear Dipper mumbling his internal monologue-but he would prefer Dipper leading instead. They were in Pines' territory, after all, so it seemed more appropriate.

He deliberately slowed his pace to subtly coax the psychic boy into walking ahead of him. In response, Dipper merely slowed his pace, too. He glanced over his shoulder. Dipper had a hateful gaze directed to his shoes and was fruitlessly hugging himself to keep warm. As soon as Gideon stopped, Dipper also stopped without missing a beat or asking any questions.

He didn't know how to phrase it without being blunt. "Do y'wanna take the lead? I mean, it's yer family's warehouse."

Dipper halted his monologue, then blatantly refused to take the leadership position with a shake of the head.

Oh God, this exploit was hopeless without their eccentric female counterparts. He knew being alone with any of the Pines' was bound to be a disaster, but not like this. "Why don't we take a break?"

Dipper sat down right where he was standing and let out an exasperated groan. "Stupid ghost! Haunt us already!" he willed desperately. Despite his boiling anger, he let out a yawn. The lack of sleep was certainly getting him cranky. He was tempted to call it quits and pick the money out of Stan's pocket later. He could almost feel the warm queen-sized bed awaiting him at the tent, littered with plush pillows, lulling him to sleep. The hard cement floor was starting to feel more comfortable.

Gideon wrapped the cape around Dipper's shoulders. "I reckon y'can afford a quick nap. Science says even fifteen minutes can get ya to be more alert 'n' active."

"What, you think I'm not alert?" Dipped snapped. Even so, his eyelids were beginning to droop.

"Yer as sharp as an untuned piccolo," Gideon deadpanned. He was being sarcastic, of course. "Well, since yer not too tired, we can formulate a strategy."

"Kill the ghost," Dipper suggested.

Gideon didn't think it was possible to kill someone already dead, though he didn't blame Dipper for his lapse in logic. His watch told him it was already six minutes past midnight. He himself was drawing a blank of what tactics they could possibly employ-there was currently nothing to form a strategy against, in the first place.

It was only a matter of time until Dipper finally submitted to his body's desires. His messenger bag served as the perfect pillow. Gideon envied his peaceful sleeping expression. He was starting to think the night was all but a wild goose chase. But while Dipper was in such a vulnerable state, it wouldn't hurt to take a peek of Journal #2.

Gideon gently tugged the messenger bag from under Dipper's head, only for Dipper to hug both the messenger bag and Gideon's arm closer to himself. "We can't share everything, Mabel… I have… my own life to lead…"

Oh, no no no. Gideon sure as heck did not sneak out of the Mystery Shack to listen to Dipper's twin angst. He shuddered when he felt Dipper nuzzling his face against his hand. He thought Dipper's cute, likeable personality was just a stage persona, but no, he just had to be as adorable off-stage as well. Even Mabel had her sadistic tendencies to balance out her irresistible beauty. "Well, why don'tcha go 'head 'n' lead it 'stead of lettin' everyone else lead it fer ya?" Gideon scoffed.

"'Cos I'd miss you…"

Gideon whipped out his flashlight and desperately shone it in Dipper's face. He fervently clicked it on and off. "Rise 'n' shine, Li'l Dipper! Nap time is over!" He wouldn't imagine that Dipper would miss him and not Mabel, would not, would never!

Dipper finally let go of Gideon's arm with a moan as he pulled his cape over his face to shield himself from the light. Gideon exhaled a sigh of relief, though he found himself missing Dipper's warmth. Oh gosh, no, he wouldn't let himself fall for Dipper like all his other fangirls or else his name isn't Gideon Pines-he means, Dipper Gleeful-Dipeon Pineful- _ummm_ …!

In a blushing fury, Gideon ripped Dipper's cape off of him. "Let's go, moonlight is a-wastin'!" he beckoned, still shining the light on Dipper's face. He shook the tired boy's shoulder, willing himself with every fiber of his being to not wipe the slight bit of drool on the corner of his mouth.

Dipper swatted the flashlight away. "Stop that!" he hissed. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. "I thought you said I could afford a nap."

Gideon looked away from Dipper's unruly bedhead. "I thought ya said y'weren't tired."

"I thought you said you were here to exorcise a ghost, not wait around for me to hold your hand for every step of the way."

"I thought ya said you'd miss me!"

Gideon slapped his hands over his mouth as soon as the words came out, dropping the flashlight on the ground. The lens popped out of it, spilling the D batteries. His face burned with embarrassment. "I-I-I mean, l-like, um, w-well…" The light above them continued to stutter.

Dipper wasn't even in the mood to prod any further. The subject wasn't worth pursuing at this point. He was quick to divert the focus. "... Let's check upstairs. From my last encounter, the ghost would have harassed us already if it were on this floor."

This time, Dipper willingly took the lead. Gideon scrambled to put together his flashlight before he was left behind. Dipper fuzzily recalled Grunkle Stan briefly describing the layout of the warehouse. There was an elevator on the north wing of the building, but no stairs. Something about statistics concerning the likelihood of death by fire compared to the death by stairs, perhaps connected to Stan's fear of heights? Heck if he knew.

The elevator was ancient, emphasized by its rickety accordion-like scissor gate doors that Dipper had to strain to open manually. He recklessly slammed all of the available buttons. None of them worked. Dipper shrugged and stepped in anyway, gesturing for Gideon to follow suit. "Make any sudden noises and we're dead, okay?"

Gideon made a zipping motion across his mouth and gave a thumbs-up, face drained of all color. He hesitantly stepped inside the elevator, internally screaming when it shook a little. The room was awfully cramped. He clenched his shaking hands onto the hand rails as the elevator glowed, rising with Dipper's telekinetic power.

The ride was unbearingly slow, whether Dipper was doing it purposefully to tease the other passenger or if he was actually sparing Gideon from vomiting his dinner out. Criss-cross shadows fell as they rose to the second floor. Dipper wasn't sure when to stop, until they felt a thump telling them that they hit the second floor. His powers wavered for a second at the sudden noise, but had quick enough reflexes to regain his hold. He yanked open the rusty doors, and out they stepped into more inky darkness.

Gideon's flashlight flickered for a second, probably due to its previous collision with the cement floor, before Gideon gave it a good smack, shining a stable beam of light. It flickered for a few more moments until it finally died out. He shook it to try to get more juice out of it, but it was useless.

Dipper clicked his tongue in contempt. He willed his mystic amulet to glow. "That's what happens when you waste the battery trying to blind me. We'll have to follow each other's voices for the most part."

Gideon honestly would have preferred to hold Dipper's hand than rely on conversation to keep them together. Really, that wasn't just his (totally not) developing crush on him speaking. "We really are workin' together, ain't we?" He followed the blue glow.

They quickly synchronized their steps. "Like I said, I'm not the competitive one."

"Y'could've told me t'beat it, or left me t'exorcise the ghost all by myself."

"Flatter yourself all you want-I need to find the trunk the ghost is guarding. You're just a tool. Don't forget that."

It was difficult to take the callous aloofness seriously with his sleeping face burned into Gideon's mind. "So, y'gotta rely on tools like me to compensate fer yer own lack of ability?"

Dipper didn't fall for the bait being waved in his face. Unlike Mabel, he had the advantage of not giving a crap on his side. "Sure. You're right, I'm no-good, talentless, and pathetic," he sarcastically responded in a flat monotone.

For once, Gideon felt bad for insulting a Pine. "... Now I feel bad," he confessed. (Weirdly, he could almost detect a trace of Will Cipher in Dipper's response.) Somewhere deep in his heart, he had gained sympathy for the younger twin who was next to incomplete without his outgoing sister. The boy was relatable now, a shell of the earlier impression Gideon had of him as the stereotypical stoic, quiet type that ditzy girls went googly-eyed for. This boy was a lot more talkative and social than Gideon had previously assumed, even if he talked mostly to himself. Show-biz required at least a sliver of extrovertedness, it seemed.

"You should," Dipper rebuked bluntly, "for using a dumb fallacy." He stepped over a Stan Co. cleaning rag-the Sham Total, a total sham. All Stan Co. products had some kind of defect, even the current novelties in the Tent of Telepathy's gift shop.

A rat scuttled across the floor, brushing its long tail against Gideon's leg as it passed by. Gideon squeaked, instinctively clinging onto Dipper's arm, as he would have done with Pacifica if she were present. For someone who was nuzzling his face against Gideon's hand just earlier, Dipper was quick to shake himself loose of Gideon's grasp. "It's just a rat," he rationalized.

"And what creature is notorious fer spreadin' the bubonic plague durin' the Dark Ages?"

"It's just one-"

Suddenly, an entire colony of rats swept past them. Once more, Gideon screamed. They turned around to face the ghost they'd been endlessly searching for all night. From its fiery eyeballs and echoing laughter, the ghost looked nothing like a Category 3, unless Stan had somehow meant Category 10 minus 3.

Simultaneously, the boys whipped out their journals from their bags, rapidly flipping through pages under the glow of Dipper's amulet. Gideon was the only one who could find something relevant. "G-Ghosts always have a reason for what they do…" he read.

Dipper rolled his eyes. No duh, Sherlock. He stepped towards the menacing entity challengingly. "Let's skip the backstory and get straight to you coughing up Grunkle Stan's trunk." He summoned glowing blue knives as protection.

Gideon hid behind the arrogant Pine. He hadn't the slightest clue how to actually exorcise a ghost, other than flicking salt and drenching everything in holy water. His journal didn't even list any helpful spells, but he was guessing that the most helpful hint was that ghosts always had a reason. This specter's reason was something related to vengeance against lying, cheating, stealing, etc. How in the world was he supposed to placate a ghost with a legitimate justification for its actions, much less one that was being provoked by a descendant of its sworn enemy's family?

As soon as the ghost started controlling crates to throw at them, Dipper took Gideon's hand and through the ghost. They shuddered as they fazed through the chill, then rushed into the maze of discarded factory defects. Dipper threw crates behind them with his telekinetic powers in an attempt to block the ghost, but the ghost simply floated right through them. The two boys took sharp turns, nearly running face-first into a crate or wall half the time because of the darkness. Even in the heat of the moment, Gideon was amazed that he ended up holding hands with Dipper, after all. He hated how cold and clammy Dipper's hands were.

The chase was cut short when Dipper tripped over his shoelaces. Darn it, he hadn't finished double-knotting his shoe thanks to the ruckus Gideon caused earlier when he got tangled in his cape. He landed on top of Gideon, their faces mere centimeters apart. They were still a good distance away from that stupid ghost, but there was no way they could get up and running quick enough to not get caught.

"Ouch!" Gideon winced at the impact. "Dipper, yer really heav-"

In a panic, he turned off the glow of his amulet and pressed his own lips to Gideon's to silence him. (Thank God the boy remembered to tilt his head first, at the very least.) Gideon felt Dipper's face going completely flush. They listened to each other's heartbeats while they waited for the ghost to pass by. Half a minute never felt longer.

The initial contact came as a shock to the both of them. It was Dipper who parted his lips first in a need to scream. Gideon misinterpreted the signal and wove their hands together, ready to deepen their kiss. Thousands of pages of romance novels and women's magazines flashed through his head, reminding him that this was supposed to happen naturally. He realized that over the course of his stay in Gravity Falls, he didn't know what "natural" was anymore, unless it was in the word "supernatural." The worst part was that, once again, _Dipper refused to take the lead_. That idiot, he was the one who initiated the kiss in the first place.

Dipper wasn't sure what exactly was going on anymore. He was paralyzed by his analysis of the situation, hyper-aware of the cold spot nearing them. No matter how sweaty his palms were getting, he couldn't part from Gideon just yet. Even the slightest movement could possibly give away their location. Yet, he couldn't ignore the slight nibbling on his bottom lip.

Somewhere along the way, Gideon re-learned what natural felt like and Dipper stopped thinking. They hardly registered the passing cold spot while they were caught up in each other's heat. Dipper became the most into the kiss once he gave into his primal instincts, even going as far as unconsciously grinding his hips into the boy below him.

Gideon could smell the forest on Dipper and dust from the warehouse. He had to push Dipper away to, first of all, swallow the excess saliva that had built up, and also take a breather. Sober and nervous again, Dipper scrambled off of Gideon. The smaller boy was relieved to finally have the weight off of him.

"Y'couldn't 'ave asked me out on a date first?" he teased. He sat up, aching from the cold, hard cement floor.

Dipper was dead. If the ghost didn't kill him, Mabel would. The Telepathy Twins are no more after tonight, it'll just be Magic Mabel and an urn of ashes. "I will _pay_ you to pretend that never happened!" he hissed.

Gideon didn't even bother to remind him that they were still holding hands. "Look, I figured out a plan ta exorcise th'ghost…"

Dipper clicked his tongue in contempt. That's what he was thinking of while they were making out? Nice to know his mouth was less interesting than… um... their lives….

"We gotta listen to 'is backstory."

"You can't see it, but I'm rolling my eyes so hard at that right now."

Gideon licked his lips. Whatever flavor of chapstick Dipper was wearing, it was a tasty flavor. "We _gotta_. It's the only way we can find out how to put 'is soul t'rest."

Dipper scraped from his experience of cheesy horror movies and playing with Ouija boards for another solution. He wished the undead weren't so willing to bore their victims to death with stories about their past. "Can't you just recite some prayer from the Holy Book?"

"The journal ain't got no spells for exorcising ghosts."

Dipper slammed a hand to his face. "The _other_ Holy Book."

... Oh, _that_ one. Gideon pulled up Dipper to his feet. "C'mon, Li'l Dipper." He squeezed Dipper's hand reassuringly. "Just follow my lead!"

* * *

"It was the spring of '89…"

Dipper withheld his groan. He couldn't believe he was actually listening to the sob story of some dead guy-Ernie, apparently. As it turns out, Stanley was (kind of) innocent this time. Ernie was killed by an 80-ton "shame-bot" when he didn't come to his old college buddy's retirement party that also exploded the entire downtown area. Wary of the future danger his old inventor friend was bound to cause, Ernie embedded his vengeful will into a trunk of the inventor's most prized and confidential possessions, cursing whoever happened to inherit it. For whatever reason, Stanley stole it and hid it away in the warehouse until the right moment to unleash its contents.

"... and that is why I can not trust anyone with this trunk," Ernie explained, materializing the trunk in the air beside him, "unless they have proven their honesty and good will."

Gideon shoved Dipper in front of him. "Li'l Dipper is the most honest person I know, even if he _is_ a bad kisser!" He deserved the punch to his gut, but he persisted in spite of the pain. "H-He cares about his family more than anythin'! In fact, he's a total wuss with 'is sister Mabel!"

Dipper crossed his arms. He just hoped he wouldn't have to do the Lamby Lamby Dance again. "I am _not_ a wuss without Mabel!" he argued. "Just because I'm not flashy and don't like obsessing over weird little dorky boys doesn't mean I'm pathetic… I-I just look out for her, that's all."

"Aww! What _good will_ you've got, Li'l Dipper!" Gideon cooed.

Ernie floated towards Dipper, staring into the boy's eyes like he could see into his soul. After a moment of looking the brunet up and down, Ernie relented his suspicion and dropped the trunk in front of Dipper. Ernie boomed his last words before dissipating. "Cherish your loved ones while you still can."

Before Gideon could even let out a sigh of relief, Dipper grabbed him by the shoulders. The mystic amulet glowed menacingly. Gideon could feel a slight pressure around his neck, but he wasn't sure if that was Dipper's telekinetic powers or his own anxiety.

Dipper whispered into his ear, lightly brushing his lips against the shell of Gideon's ear. "I'm a bad kisser, huh?"

Gideon laughed nervously. "I-I just think y'need some more practice, is all..." It wasn't bad, per say, but it would be stranger to admit that his sister kissed better than him.

The distance between them was easily closed.

"They do say that practice makes perfect."

* * *

 **More like Unexpected Kissin', am I right? I'm already working on the sequel to this. I really missed publishing fanfics and getting feedback (even though I write a heckton of them all the time anyway) and I'm glad to be back at it again.**


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